


for you, i'd bleed myself dry

by orphan_account



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, ['everybody hurts' playing on car stereo], i'm so sorry for this omfg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy takes the bullet for him this time. Jake feels it pierce through him twice as painfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for you, i'd bleed myself dry

**Author's Note:**

> AKA the 'I'm sorry, but this is necessary in every fandom' story.

In every movie Jake’s ever seen that involves a gunshot in any way, shape, or form, time slows down as it flies through the air and the only thing the audience can hear is the thumping pulse and the ragged breath of its would-be victim. But as he stands here, facing a loaded gun and eyes that scream insanity behind the trigger, time is trundling along just as steadily as it always does.

All he hears is silence.

Then the gun goes off and, before he knows it, something is hurtling past and time definitely does not slow down as the bullet meets soft tissue and Amy Santiago falls to the ground with a gasp.

The criminal flees and Jake doesn’t pursue him. His feet are rooted to the ground; white-hot permafrost spreads through his veins.

And then, all of a sudden, there’s a rushing sound, a roar that just gets louder and louder, crashing through Jake’s psyche and reducing him to rubble. His composure sputters, flickers, dies – and then he starts moving again, falling through space and time to reach her, determined to reach her, to conquer any insurmountable odds that might dare to stop him from falling heavily to his knees and taking his partner into his arms.

It seems impossible that Jake Peralta, the person who always has a witty (and sometimes less-than-witty) remark for every situation waiting on the tip of his tongue, should be rendered speechless all of a sudden. Goddamn it, goddamn it, she’s lying in his arms and it’s a fucking Greek tragedy, but the problem is that he never _asked_ for a tragedy, the way she never _asked_ for her last sight to be of him and his stupid broken heart.

How cliché this is. A boy with his dying lady love in his arms, watching all his regrets pile up like the flowers that will appear in front of her headstone.

“Ames,” Jake says, voice wavering as he stares down at her. “Amy.”

Amy just looks up at him with eyes that are misted over and says nothing.

“Why the hell did you do that?”

“You needed help,” she murmurs, and manages to smile throughout it all. “We’re partners.”

“Shit, Amy,” Jake manages, forcing down a sob, and takes her face in his hands. “You didn’t have to play the fucking hero.”

“It’s our job to serve and protect, you idiot,” Amy breathes, so quiet and so pathetic and so _sad_ all of a sudden. “And I couldn’t let you die.”

Then she says it – three words that mean everything to him. Three words whispered from person to person under bed-sheets, hands clasped. Three words shouted from rooftops as the wind rips them away and scatters them haphazardly. Three words made of nothing but earnest sincerity that causes the last of the color to drain from Jake’s face and the tears in his eyes to blur his vision.

“Ames –”

“I’m not just saying it because I’m about to – well.” Her breath hitches in her throat as she searches his face desperately, determined to memorize every curve and contour. “I wish I’d told you ages ago. God, Jake, where did we go wrong?”

“You’re such a nerd,” Jake whispers, dipping his head to press his forehead against hers. “You’re going to be fine. And when this is all over, you’re going to be so embarrassed that you said any of this.”

“I wouldn’t have regretted any of it,” Amy murmurs, voice faraway and wistful. “None of it.”

Amy Santiago dies quietly in Jake Peralta’s arms, with tears that aren’t hers trickling down her face. And this isn’t a fucking storybook – this is real freaking life, and Amy Santiago is gone and Jake is falling apart, tearing himself apart with guilt and grief and _no, God, Amy, you were too young to die and I was too young to love you and I would do anything to see you smile again._


End file.
